


Deacon Uses "Yogurt Shotgun" in his Dirty Tallk, Pass it on

by MorganOfTheFey



Series: OTP: Bats and Butterflies [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: All the time, Cunnilingus, Deacon finally has his mouth put to good use, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Light BDSM, Orgasm Denial, bottom!Deacon, just sort of implied, ridiculous euphemisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5671336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganOfTheFey/pseuds/MorganOfTheFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, the title is pretty much all you need to know. Deacon is a bad, bad sinner and his dirty talk is /terrible/. Some actual smut manages to happen despite this, however.</p><p>***</p><p>“I'll fuck you so good,” he said, nearly panting for breath. “Just let me over there. Please Sole, just lemme touch you. I'll have you bouncing on my love muscle just the way you like.”</p><p>Sole lifted her head from the pillow to stare at him. “On your what?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deacon Uses "Yogurt Shotgun" in his Dirty Tallk, Pass it on

Deacon whimpered as he was forced to watch his Sole pleasure herself sprawled out on his bed. Well, not “forced.” He'd ride a brahmin into battle against a hundred deathclaws to get this front row seat, honestly, he would. It was just the whole “waiting patiently” thing that was killing him. He could do it though, sure. A lot of being an agent was hurry up and wait.

He just couldn't wait quietly.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful,” he babbled. “I swear I can smell you from here, that's totally a thing, how are you so goddamn wet? Let me lick it, I can clean you up so good.”

Sole didn't reply, except by pushing another finger inside herself. Actions spoke louder than words with her anyway. Deacon was the talker in their relationship. All right, liar, but she didn't judge.

“You taste like goddamn honey nectar, and I once ran a bee farm for a month,” he told her. Sole's answering snort meant she didn't believe him. “Honest, I did. There was some very important recon about—oh fuck. All right, yeah, put your fingers in your mouth. I'm not dying for it or anything, nope, just peachy-keen over here.”

Sole hummed around her fingers, closing her lips around them one at a time and sucking her juices off of them. Deacon had to slow down his strokes to make sure he didn't embarrass himself, although he had the sneaking suspicion that would happen no matter what they did. He was just so stupid in love with her.

“I'll fuck you so good,” he said, nearly panting for breath. “Just let me over there. Please Sole, just lemme touch you. I'll have you bouncing on my love muscle just the way you like.”

Sole lifted her head from the pillow to stare at him. “On your what?”

“My uh …” Deacon stopped and swallowed hard. Guess his dirty talking skills had gotten a little rustier than he thought. “My love muscle?”

Sole dropped back down to the bed in a fit of laughter, and Deacon couldn't even be mad because he loved listening to her laugh so much. Plus it made all kinds of flutterings happen to her own sexy bits, and goddamn he really was getting rusty if he just referred to his lover's pussy as “sexy bits.”

“Is there another word you'd prefer?” he asked innocently. “Like … my flesh flute?”

Sole laughed even harder, trying to shake her head no, but now Deacon was grinning that shit-eating grin of his and there would be no stopping him.

“How about my baloney pony?”

She gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes, and for a moment he worried he'd actually offended her. Then she gave a gasping inhale that sounded kind of like a squealing brahmin calf and buried her face in the covers to muffle her laughter.

“My schlong dongadoodle?”

Sole patted around for her pillow without lifting her face and threw it at his general direction, but Deacon was having too much fun now.

“My tan banana? Spawn hammer? Meter long king kong dong?”

That finally prompted her to raise her head and gasp out, “Stop!”

Deacon grinned wider and kept on going. “Heat-seeking moisture missile!”

“I swear to god, Deacon,” Sole threatened, unable to keep her voice entirely serious.

“Single barreled pump action bollock,” he sing-songed in reply. “Purple-helmeted warrior of love!”

“Me not breaking up with you right now is how you know I really love you,” she said.

Deacon finally stopped, hoping he wasn't too obviously making heart eyes at her. She was an absolute saint for putting up with his shit and he goddamn knew it. The room stayed quiet for nearly a full minute, the two of them just staring at each other.

“Yogurt. Shotgun.” Deacon whispered into the silence.

Sole grabbed his pillow and threw that at him too. He didn't even try to dodge, accepting the pillow that smacked into his face. He was an unrepentant sinner, and he deserved it.

“Well what would you prefer to call my penis?” he asked her.

A smirk spread across her lips, the one that always meant there would be death, trouble, or some really fantastic sex. On a good day, all three.

“Mine,” she answered.

Sole snapped her fingers and pointed at a spot on the floor between her knees hanging off the edge of the bed. Deacon rushed to get there so fast he tripped over his own feet, but that was OK because he totally meant to fall to his knees in front of her anyway. Sole grinned down at him like she knew exactly what had happened and he hadn't pulled off that save as smoothly as he thought.

“Put your mouth to better use,” she told him. “Dork.”

Deacon eagerly obeyed, and she grabbed the back of his head to press his mouth exactly where she wanted it. He moaned at the first taste of her, then let out a happy sigh when her thighs wrapped around his head. She was soft and warm and everything a lying piece of shit like him didn't deserve, but she trusted him for some reason, and God help him, he trusted her too.

Up above him, Sole relaxed back into the mattress and grinned at the ceiling.

“Yeah, you like my pink velvet sausage wallet, don't you?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to hear more, check out my extensive list of synonyms for penis and vagina on tumblr at http://thisiswhymomworries.tumblr.com/post/136841473183/writing-smut-like. ;)


End file.
